Pues

well (pues), if all goes according to plan, i will be heading back to the us of a tonight at 8.30.
it is so surreal to think about. i don´t know if im ready, part of me is because i am excited for another summer at camp, but there is so much i haven´t done or seen here and i would love to stay. i will be back some day, i don´t know when, but i will. i told my family in Llojjllata i would return one day with my kids. i intend on sticking to that.

the last week was insane. everybody on the program was working crazy hours to finish their products. my book is called El Hermano, La Hermana, y la Vaca (the brother, the sister, and the cow). i collaged all of the kids´drawings to make the illustrations. i think they look great, i included one here. there are a bunch of suns in the sky trying to tell the brother and sister where their lost cow is. i didn´t sleep at all really, so the week is sort of a blur of me yelling at photoshop and drinking lots of coffee and trying to explain to my host family--no, i am not done yet...

i have learned so much here from other members in my group, my host families, my professors, people on the streets---the culture has so much to offer and the people are so generous, you can´t help but feel changed. i have a lot of abstract thoughts in my head about decolonialization, the constructs of time as a line or a circle, living well vs. living better, hospitality, labels, development, etc. maybe i´ll figure some stuff out on the plane, but probalby not, and all of you will just have to figure it out with me.

¡Pre Order mi Libro!

Before I can even tell you about my last 3 weeks, I thought I´d drop a note to say that if you would like to pre-order the children´s book (that I am going to write this week as my final project...), let me know! As of today, all I really know about it is that, I am going to use the drawings of the kids I worked with the past 3 weeks and it will be in English, Spanish and Aymara (the indigenous language of the town I was in).

I think they will cost about $7. The publishing process takes a while so you probably wouldn´t get it for about a year. I will be bringing un-published copy back with me, so if you see me, you can see it.

If you would like one, or two, or 50, or would like to donate any money to my publishing costs, that would be great! I am working with the organization Kids Books Bolivia, (kidsbooksbolivia.org) if you want to check it out.

Let me know! tverstee@macalester.edu you can give me money in person, if that is an option, or send it to me at:

4683 100th
Montezuma, IA
50171

back from the country: children y potatoes

¡Buenos días! I´m back from3 weeks in Llojjllata (kind of like yolk-ya-ta, but not really, but thats the closest I can try to sound it out with english..,) a small Aymara community in the Altiplano.

It´s incredibly difficult to know where to start, but I will begin by saying that I was a "surprise" to the community, the school i hoped to work in, and the family I was to stay with. My advisor dropped me off at his brother´s house one day and, well I don´t know what he said to them, but probably somthing like "This gringa is going to stay with you for 3 weeks and work in the school. Okay?" Regardless of this short introduction, my family, the Quispes took me in with open arms. Their hard work, generiosity, and genuine kindness will stay with me forever. (foto of my host dad Gregorio and mom Justina at lunch one day)
Typical day: Wake up around 7.30. Have some maté (tea of eucalyptis, k´oa, or other plants or tree leaves) and bread. Then I would go to school from about 8.30-12.00. I lived right next to the school and would come home and eat the lunch of potatoes, cheese, salsa, and fava beans (They are green, lima bean shaped, but i don´t think they are lima beans, and you have to peel of the outer layer first...). Then I would write and work or read or play charango or wash clothes in the afternoon, but if i knew what field (pampa) my family was in, I would find them and help them harvest potoatoes for the afternoon. Around 6.30, we would come back from the fields and they would put the animals away and get water and we would sit in the kitchen together while my mom or sister made dinner. Depending on how tired everyone was, we either had soup of potatos, rice ,carrots, ava beans, some sort of herb, sometimes meat, or buñuelos--fried bread with maté, or warm milk and rice (arroz con leche). Sometimes I would "help" more like try to help, peel potatoes or ava beans. I now know the art of peeling a potato, but I cannot really do it will. I am slow and take off much more than the peel. Around 8.30 or 9, everyone would go to their rooms for the night.

A little more about my family:
Los Quispe are mom and dad, Justina and Gregorio, with 7 kids Jorge (29, studying sociology and development), Juan (28, mechanic), Carlos (25, studying law), Isabel (23, studying to be a nun), Adelia (19, studying to be a nurse), Edwin (16, in highschool), Alfredo (15, in highschool). I lived with mostly Justina, Gregorio, Adelia, Edwin, and Alfredol. The three older sons live in La Paz/El Alto working and studying, but came back home to help harvest potatoes as well, and the older daughter is in Colombia. They have about 8 fields of potatoes and fava beans ( broad beans...i think?), 4 cows, 2 sheep, 5 pigs, 2 dogs, and 2 kittens. Harvesting potatoes involves a pick ax, a bag, hours in the sun and/or rain, and breaking your back. It is tiring and difficult and they do it day in and day out in harvest season.

I could say alot about this family. They are incredible. I miss them a lot already. We laughed a lot, I don´t even know about what, I think a lot of me makinga fool out of myself. I taught them a little English and they taught me a little Aymara, how to make cheese, how to milk a cow, how to cook over a fire, among many other things. They are gracious and humble and incredibly innovative and saavy as well has hilarious and goofy. Life is about living well, not about trying to get ahead. (foto of Juan, Justina, Alfredo, Adelia, Adela (Juan´s wife), and Eli (Juan and Adela´s daughter).

A little more about the school:
The first few days I showed up at Unidad Educative Antofagasto, the kids didn´t know what to do with me. They were really shy and I had a hard time talking to them, but I didn´t know if it was that they didn´t understand very much spanish or they just didn´t know what to do. It turned out to be the later because they because very un-shy very quickly after I started working with them in the classroom and playing fútbol with them during recess. We never played anything else.

The little ones (los chiquititos) were pretty crazy. I spent a lot of time trying to stop the reallly little ones from eating paper and crayons, and to stop the others from fighting, and teasing.... kids are kids, no ve? They did tell me I have the eyes of a cat and the nose of a pig various time...my host family found this quite funny (and kept insisting I don´t believe them).

All the kids are incredibly goofy and bright, but I learned a lot about how different our lives and backgrounds and mentalities are. The activities, games, and ideas I brought into the classroom were so different from what they have been taught. There are a lot of things to talk about about rural education in Bolivia, but I came into the classroom with a completely westernized mindset, with out intending to or realizing (that was the last thing I wanted). I guess to explain better, I will give one example. One day, with the older kids (los grandes), I asked them to draw or write about the perfect day. They were so confused, "What do you mean the perfect day? What do you want us to do?" Blank blank stares. I tried to explain it more and more and eventukally they started and it turned out that most of them drew what had drawn other days when I asked them to draw their house and where they live and what they do. In my mind, why not think about what could be, hypothesize, think about what you could want in the whole wide world, but for them, there isn´t this striving for unnattainable perfection. They are grounded in their reality, which is about living well where you are. I feel like this mentallity is one of the biggest differences between our countries and cultures. Its not to say people don´t realize they don´t have a lot, they know that, but the idea of being "poor" doesn´t really exist or atleast its not as looked down upon. This could go on a really really really long time about colonialism, imperialism, NGOS and "devopement" project, individualism, neo liberalism, and all the other silver dollar words...its just too much to type. On a lighter note, here is a foto of almost all the kids the last day. And yes, the professors (a married couple who live in the La Paz on the weekends and have beeing teaching here for about 20 years) got them to stand still, not me.

to the campo

Buenas tardes,
I am just finishing up my last week in Cochabamba before I head out to a rural Aymara community in the Altiplano for my independent study, near where my SIT group did our rural homestay. I don´t know the name of the town yet, but I will be living there for about three weeks. My project is to hopefully help out in a classroom but also hold "creative writing activity" sort of things with the kids. In the end, I want to mix and match, and compile their stories for a children´s book that will be published through the organization Kids´Books Bolivia. It is all sort of a day by day thing. Pretty much, I am showing up on Sunday and we will see from there. I do not know if I will be able to access internet either, sooooo you will all have to wait in eager anticipation.

Until May.
Nos vemos.

Monkeys, Elections, and a Baby

A whirlwind of a weekend. I took a trip to the Chapare, which is the tropical forest region 3 hours from the city, that surrounds Cochabamba. It was a great 2 days full of misadventures and wandering around, not quite knowing what was going on. There is a tourist town, but of course, we went one town passed that in our bus, but stayed there anyways. A really nice woman who sold us banana shakes both mornings helped us figure out where we were and what to do. I am convinced that if the people here were not so kind, I would still be in the airport trying to find my way out. We went to Parque Machía and walked in some waterfalls and watched the monkeys follow us through the park. One of them even tried to steal my water bottle but she let go eventually. We also had really really really good fish in town and coconut milk straight out of the nut or fruit or whatever it is. Of course, we cannot have a trip without having bus adventures and our bus on the way back got two flat tires. The first everybody waited on the side of the road for an hour for them to change it, and the second time, we all had to hail other busses from the side of the road. I think in only these times is when we got swarmed by bugs, and my legs look like i have the chicken pox. But we made it back finally and had some good street food by the market in Cochabamba before we went home. I had "api" which is this sweet drink made of a purple corn and a yellow corn and you eat it with fried bread.
It was also Holy Week, which complicated things in the Chapare a little bit because things were not open but in Cochabamba it was hard to tell what was going on because Sunday was also the election day for governor and mayor. For weeks the plaza by my house has been covered with flags and signs for all the parties and every weekend there have been tons of people with free stuff and music. So on Sunday there was no public transportation ( I think because of elections) and because of this no Easter church. This seemed very strange to me, but I had also been told by my other academic program adviser, Heidi, that Easter one of the least celebrated holidays. This seems strange in such a Catholic identifying culture but we learned that the emphasis is more on Good Friday and the crucifixion.

My host sister-in-law, Male and my host brother Jorge had a baby girl, April, on Sunday night. I have not seen her yet but will try to take tons of pictures. Everybody is very excited and I think a little more relaxed now that the baby is born and elections are over. My tías (aunts) and host mom have been knitting constantly for her ever since I have been here. I think she will have enough sweaters to last her entire life.

A Hot and Humid Tierras Bajas

Ive been a traveling fool for a little while so I haven{t been able to get on the computer. We got back last Thursday from the Lowlands. The first couple of days we went into the rural areas, to a town called Ascension de los Guarayos. The short and sweet (or sour, more like sour I would say, or maybe sweaty--it is unbelievable humid there. I know that those of you from the midwest do not believe me but yes, it was worse than our lovely summers in heat-thick air) version is: we learned a lot about the privatization of the rain forest which means trees are disappearing at an alarming rate by being cut down by large businesses, not a new story for Bolivian natural resources. A few people we talked to said that in 5 years, this part of the rainforest probably won{t have any trees if they keep cutting them down so rapidly without replacing them. There is a lot of conflict over land ownership as well, because the indigenous communities think they have possession over their land but every time they think so, it turns out their land title is fake and the land gets taken away by a big business...A lot of these communities are fighting to have governmental autonomy from the Santa Cruz region, because the city of Santa Cruz is much different the the region called Santa Cruz. There are also a lot of problems with water access and accessibility to education, especially after high school. Right now, rural universities are few and far between, so people have to go to the city to study and because there are no jobs in rural areas, most stay or immigrate out of the country. It is a struggle right now to make rural life sustainable.

In these two days, of course we had our share of bus adventures. We had heard before that we might have problems crossing roads because in the beginning of February they had tons and tons of rain and it caused lots of flooding. At least we were ready, but at this point, we expect to have to push our bus anyways. After we went swimming in a river for a good while, which was after we made it to the end of a Palm Sunday service in a nearby town, we were back on the road. There were piles of dirt and gravel to fix pot holes, but they were covering almost the entire road. our bus driver tried to go around, however the problem was that on either side of the road was swampy marsh lands. We didn{t make it very far before we had to stop, get out and problem solve. We tried many things with rocks and the jack and pushing but eventually somebody drove by and towed us out of trouble, and we also moved the rock piles in the middle of the road to one side so everyone could get by. We spent a lot of time on the bus those first few days because this town was 8 hours outside of Santa Cruz. I was able to make pretty good headway on East of Eden by John Steinbeck and practice my charango skills (A charango is a small string instrument native to Andean music here and I bought one a few weeks ago. It has been a good investment so far). I will also note I slept both nights in a hammock. I don{t know if I ever want to go back to a real bed...

In the city of Santa Cruz we came upon another world. Santa Cruz is the wealthiest city in Bolivia, or atleast has the wealthiest people (but also the poorest) and one of the largest. It has grown incredibly in the past 50 years, especially because of the "rainforest business" that has created a stronghold of elites that control the region, and it is incredibly westernized. I saw many American clothing stores, neon lights, and I think even a strip mall with high end furniture. I had been told by my host mom and one of my academic program directors, Ismael who grew up in Santa Cruz, that it is another country, and not in a good way, a lot of racism and discrimination between classes. We also visited some sand dunes that are the direct result of deforestation. They did not exist 50 years ago.

A lot of the political opposition in Bolivia comes from Santa Cruz and it was very evident. There were many political party rallies because the elections for governor and mayor were that weekend and many of us stopped by the MAS rally because there was a rumor Evo Morales, El Presidente, was going to speak. It was a big rumor and he never came, but a lot of us acquired MAS flags from the rally. We were told not to show those outside of the rally because we might be accosted or harassed. Some members of my group were stopped by cars in the street because the drivers were convinced that we did not know what we were doing. There was an assumption because we are white, we cannot support MAS and must be confused. That is Santa Cruz, or at least the sector that has money.

We also traveled to the edge of town, which is a world apart form the city center. There is a neighborhood called Plan 3000 that we visited to learn about the community activism in trying to gain independence from the larger city. you see, in the 80{s there was big flood and many indigenous communities lost everything. So the government moved 3000 families to the edge of Santa Cruz, which was still jungle at this time, and left them to survive without food or equipment to build anything. Since then, the 3000 families has grown to 300,000 people and there still is no water and no sewer system because the money from the region of Santa Cruz stays with the elite. The cherry on top is that Plan 3000 has since become Santa Cruz´s one and only landfill, which brings another whole group of health and living problems. This is why Plan 3000 wants to govern themselves because they feel it is the only way they can improve their conditions.

I´m very glad I got to see this side (geographically, politically, socially) of Bolivia. A lot of people think "Andes" when they think of Bolivia, but 2/3 of Bolivia is tropical forest and low lands. I would have liked to spend more time there because it is so different but I will not miss humidity, at all. Also, it was very hard to understand a lot of people because they speak with a different accent. They never us the letter "s" and the speech runs together a lot more. We also learned some words in Guarayu, the main indigenous language, ands its a shame i can´t remember them. I couldn´t pronounce them right once, much less remember now.

I will try to put up pictures later but I forgot my camera cord....

The White City

This is Sucre. Very quaint, very colonial. ALL the buildings are white, no kidding. It was an awesome city and we got to do a lot of really cool things including the Museum of Indigenous Art. There were incredible weavings and clothing, so complex and detailed and colorful. The musuem is also run by an organization that trys to help weaving communities sell their products in the market. I also went the CasaDel Libertad, which has original constitution and a lot of other really cool artifacts from the independence in1825. Our guide was really nice and it was nice to "be reminded" of everything we learned in history class in early February. One of the big things is that one of the reasons the "revolutionaries" won is because a bunch of upperclass sons of the Spanish decided to switch sides and support Bolivar so when they won independence, nothing really changed anybody who wasn´t wealthy colonist because the new people in charge were pretty much the same Spanish elite, only their sons. Oh colonialism.

We also had a sort of private concert with Las Misas, a pretty famous Andean folk band in Bolivia. One of the men also has a music school in Sucre. It was awesome. We got to hear music from the school, which was little kids to mothers, and then a concert from the band. (we also had really good steak.) One reason I love Andean folk music is because the dancing is so fun. There are definite moves and steps so to speak but really nobody cares what you do so everyone is just moving around yelling periodically.

One afternoon we ventured to Pisili, a Quechua weaving community about 2 hours outside of Sucre. They have hadSIT students beforeand knew we would enjoy helping them cook the lunch and the women let us where their traditional hats ( i will try to put a picture up soon). Something else I hae really enjoyed about the campo and meeting different indigenous communities is that their traditional clothing is all so distinct and different to their region, the colors, the patterns, the styles, everything. We were just starting to play fútbol witihsome of the boys when it started to rain. Not really a big deal except that our bus driver didn´t think we would be able to make it up the road if it was a little muddy. Ahhh, and we were just getting started and we had even scored.

Of course, the mud wasn´t the problem, but the slope and narrowness of one part of the road. It is hard to describe, but we had to turn a corner and go up hill at the same time. It wasn´t a problem on the way there because dip wasn´t a durastic from the other direction. Basically, we had to widen the left side of the road with rocks so wewouln´t fall into the ditch/small ravine and on the right side we had to make a small ramp with rocks because the front of the bus kept dipping too low into the slope of the road. With a little patience and a crow bar, we were back on the road.

I have been back in Cochabamba this week and it has gone incredibly incredibly fast. It began by going to mybrother´s ballet on Sunday night and since then I have pretty much consumed by a group project about the special education system in Bolivia. We leave Saturday for hot and humid Santa Cruz, which I have heard is "un otro país" (another country).

The Underworld

It´s been a busy week or so. I just got back from Potosí and Sucre and am trying to catch up with the real world. I have not faired so well.

Potosí is an old mining town and the highest city in the world (around 14,000 ft) and probably the reason why Bolivia became a country. When the Spanish colonized, they began mining silver out of Cerro Rico, which watches over Potosí. They forced many African slaves and indigenous people to work mining the silver and tin and 8 million miners died because of poor working conditions. Most of the other cities in Bolivia were settled to support this industry.The colonial influence is obvious by the architecture and by that it is an incredibly poor city now, because most of the wealth has been stripped from the mines, but none of the weath was ever invested in the city but pocketed by Spanish elite. Since then, Potosí still relies on the mines, even though they have been exploited to almost nothing. We got to go into Cerro Rico through mining tour company (a strange concept in itself). It is a different world and hard to undertand. The miners are very supersticous and rightfully so. They ask protection from a legend figure called Tio, who is frightening but atleast something to trust in. It was dark and sludgy and hearing dynamite blasts through the walls was haunting. We would run into miners on the tracks and gave them pop, cigarettes, coca, or alcohol as a sort of gift for getting in the way of their work.

Most of the workers now are in their late teens and 20s and most miners do not live past 40 because the breath in so much junk. Many of the young miners are trying to get through school but many never do and thus never escape the mines because they have to stop school to work, in order to eat. Even though the mines are hopeless, their is a definite pride to being a miner, maybe because they are aware they are killing themselves to support their families.

We also visited an afterschool sort of program for miners kids. It was wonderful, we played a rendition of duck duck goose for a really long time and red light green light. During a snack I talked to about five 7 year olds about the mines. They were all eager to work in the mines because all their brothers and all their fathers did, and they all said with equal enthusiasm that they were afraid of el Tio.

In other Potosí news, we went Karoke-ing with an Andean folk band and went to Casa de Monedas, one of the main minting factorites for the Spanish empire. We also took one morning and went to a natural hot spring. It was a wonderful temperate lagoon that I think I could have lived in. We swam around and also covered our selves completely with mud.

Cotidiano

So I´ve been back here in Cochabamba for the past week or so. It has been nice to be back and see my family and have more of a routine than our excursions. Cotidiano means daily life. It is easy to journal and blog about huge trips and experiences but I think that daily life in another culture is equally, if not more, important. Experiencing as much as I can the daily life of a Cochabambina changes my experiences and what I learn immensly, because it is less about being a tourist and checking of sites to see and more about being open to what the culture has to teach you.

Normal day, I wake up around 7 and run. I eat a breakfast of coffee and a bread or a piece of fruit and then I take a Truffi to school. Lately I have been walking because my host brother told me he used to walk downtown when he was in college. Truffi-ing takes about 30 minutes, if traffic is bad, which it almost always is and walking takes about 45 minutes. My brother also told me he is going to fix his bike tomorrow so I can ride to school. This should take me about 15 minutes, if I survive. I am excited for the challenge.

I then have class from 9-12.30. Recently, we have been focusing on topics assoicated with globalization and how this affects Bolivia. A lot of it has to do with resources and who controls them, Bolivia or private companies. A lot of Bolivia´s problems and poverty has come from the fact that they have not profited from their abundance of natural resources (like silver, tin, gas, etc.). Who is making the money? Well, international companies who exploit labor and resources to add millions to their billions. This causes Bolivia and other countries like it to depend on foreign support from other countries and institutions like the World Bank. However, all help comes with strings, and big ones at that. For many many years, Bolivia has been not governed by Bolivia but by really rich Americans and Europeans who want to get richer and threaten to take away funding if Bolivia does not comply with its requests. I am going to put it lightly and call it a viscious cycle. Recently, the Bolivian government has been trying to change this and make sure Bolivia profits from Bolivia´s resources, but the process is slow and complicated.

Anyway, I could go on about neoliberal policy and yada yada forever, but before you all either a. go to sleep with too much jargon or b. break your computer because it is all very upsetting, we all go home for lunch. My host brother works in the evenings, so most often he cooks lunch. For example, today we had avocado, tomato and onion salad, potatoes, and beef. I haven´t had one meal I haven´t liked. We sit and eat and chat, and if there´s time, descansa (rest). I begin Spanish at 2.45 until 6.15. My most frequent spanish teacher is Chi Chi. She is fantastic, fantastic, fantastic. We have practiced a lot of conversation, practiced a lot of subjunctive and sometimes visit intersting places in Cochabamba or have speakers. For example, yesterday we visited a therapy and legal help center for sexually abused children. Another day, we got to speak with Oscar Olivera, one of the huge leaders of the Water War in Cochabamba in 2000. I could go on forever about the Water War and and how incredible it is that we met Oscar. Look it up. It is a classic example of Bolivians fighting for what they want ( or don´t want, which in this case is to pay for rain water) and a lot of what happened, happened right where I go to school--the streets, the plaza, everything. We have learned a lot about the importance of the Water War in many classes from many perspectives, including, at least for me, my host family, who actively participated.

After Spanish, I either go home, or go to an internet cafe to do homework. The rest of the night I watch TV, eat a little bit, do homework, pretty normal stuff. It goes so fast. There are not enough hours in the day. Next week, we are going to Potoci and Sucre, old mining towns. Hasta luego.

The Time We Tried to Ford A River in a Tour Bus

It´s proven: playing "Oregon Trail" in real life is equally as fun, if not moreso, than the classic floppy disc game. Long story short, the bridge was out, we tried to cross, didn´t make it. An hour later, a tractor sort of thing from an Astro Turf factory pulled us out. In the meantime, we helped many elderly women cross the río inbetween helping the other passengers get their Truffis un-stuck. A good time was had by all.

Jallalla Jallalla

Last week was one of those weeks that seems like it never really happened. I lived on the shore of LagoTiticaca, the highest navigable lake in the world, for 5 days in a little Aymara village in the Altiplano named Toquoli, at about 13,000 feet. Toquoli has about 24 families that mostly farm papas (potatoes) and raise ovejas (sheep), vacas (cows), y gallinas (chickens). There was also a futbol field, an elementary school, and a greenhouse. This rural homestay experience was very different from past SIT homestays. This was the first time SIT or any large group of gringos visited this community and therefore I think there was a lot of nervousness on both sides. I saw everybody in SIT everyday and lived with 3 other students in my host family, whereas in the past, they have dropped students off at there homes and picked them up in 5 days. Toquoli was more than generous, and many things we did were with the entire community. There was a lot of music and dancing, traditional rituals, coca, and bonfires. The first day, they greeted us on the road with flowers and woven blankets and music, and we got our first taste of the spirit of Toquoli. Everything is about community and reciprocity. So much different than our culture that is about individual success and freedom to do what ever we want. Here, it is community and the land first. They live very close with the land and appreciate its gifts. Many traditional beliefs are centered on Pachamama (mother earth) and celebrating the generosity of the land. "Jallalla" was phrase people yelled during festivals or rituals to sort of celebrate their community. The "ja" part is short word loaded with meaning (sounds like "ha"). It signifies their entire culture, way of life, community, beliefs, etc. The "lla" (sounds like "ya") is an affirmation of their culture and the next "lla" is a double affirmation. We also played frisbee and fútbol with the community, and swam in Lake Titicaca a few times.

As I mentioned, I lived with 3 other students with one family. We lived at the TOP of the hill, and definitely got a hike in everyday. The first day, we had all of our stuff, plus huge bags of food to give to the families, and along with Mr. Altitude, the going was rough. Our host brother, Cecelio (24) and uncle had to wait for us A LOT. Once we arrived to our house, we were directed to a little house separated from the main house that we would live in together. Eventually we met, sort of, the rest of the family: Sivilo (16), Cora (14),Beatrice (10), Gemena (5), Wilmer (3), and our mom. The father lives in Oruro, and two other brothers live in Brasil, all to work and send money back. Throughout the week, Cecelio really looked after us. He spent 3 or 4 years working at a clothing factory in Brasil and returned this year to study music right now and hopefully enter University in the fall. He took us on hikes and answered all our questions about campo life. The little ones were a ball to play with. The first day, one of the other students broke the ice with some bubbles and after that they were all giggles. We didn´t get to talk much to Silvio or Cora, and a little bit to Beatrice, who was always cooking or taking animals out. Generally people in the campo are more reserved and harder to get to know in such a short time, especially for us since they do not all speak Spanish. Everyone speaks Ayamara at home and learns Spanish in school, so the little ones didn´t know any spanish, Beatrice and our Mom knew a little and our tio didn´t really know any. Even though it was difficult to have conversations sometimes, we still felt more than welcome and it was hard for them to let us help in the chores. We peeled papas sometimes, leaving them pretty destroyed, but it was funny for the rest of the family. Our mom was laughing all the time, she is so so so wonderful. We had about 40 sheep, 2 or 3 cows, a donkey, and 25 chickens as well. We had electricity, but no running water or bathroom.

It is hard to see a family and a community that works so hard so maintain the little they have and even that is not enough. There is no irrigation system, so everyone depends on the rain. It rains a lot, but when it doesn´t there is nothing they can do. Many young people have to leave for the city (in La Paz or Brasil for this community) to work underpaid, overworked factory jobs to make it by. I think education is becoming more of a priority, but it is still difficult for the young people to go to Univeristy. It is a simple life and they seem content in the midst of poverty, but it is easy for me to say, since I do not live there and come from a privilaged society where I have unlimited choices (arguably too many) from what I want to eat to what I want to do with my life.

As far as food goes, because everybody wonders about food, for breakfast we had either toasted choclo (corn) with hot tea (mate) from Eucalyptus leaves, lemon, or other natural things. To be honest, I´m not really sure, but they always made sure to put a heaping spoonful of sugar in with it. There was also a plate of barley and wheat to put in the tea if you so chose. Lunch was the biggest meal and many times we at as a community. This is not what they do normally, but only since we were there. They spread blankets down over la cancha (futbol field), and then it was sort of like a big papa potluck. A dozen different types of papas, a little bit of corn, a little bit of onion, tomato, and cheese as well. Then you just grab whatever you want in your hands and eat and go back and back and back. They also prepared soup, mostly papa or quinua, but the first day I did have a small fish in my soup. And yes, I ate it, head and all. Dinner was was usually soup and mate as well.

I learned a few Ayamara words, but whenever I asked, I could never write them down, so I don´t remember much. I know baby is wa wa, moon is poxi, and thats about it. Titicaca is Aymara as well. Titi means like the time before everything began and caca is some sort of animal that used to live in the area. The stars were unbelievable and we enjoyed full-moon lit walks home every night. The weather was insane. One minute it´s blazing sun, the next its a downpour. The nights were cold, but our family provided many many blankets so I was never cold.

Something else I´d like to mention before you fall asleep from this post is that Toquoli had us in the community because they are faced with a problem much of the campo faces today. They are not making money and cannot sustain their community as is. Many communities on Lake Titicaca get offeres from huge hotels and corporations to develope their land into tourist hotspots. No body really really wants to sell out but there doesn´t seem like much else they can do. They are stuck between a rock and a hard place.Toquoli is one of many communities trying to use a more healthy version of tourism to generate money. They want to rennovate old mining buildings on their shore into cultural exchange centers for groups like SIT and other groups to use and or camp. They want it to be more about sharing culture and knowlege than souveniour trinkets and cocktails on the beach. They do have hope though, that they will be able to maintain their culture and community inspite of their economic situation. One night when it was raining a lighting bolt hit near the community, this is a sign of new beginnings and that something good will happen soon. Hayaya Hayaya.

The Other Twin Cities

Two Sundays ago, we ventured to the La Paz area. Day one, we went to Tiawanku ruins. It was the site of a massive Incan empire thousands of years ago. Very impressive and mind blowing.
Since then, we have been mostly in La Paz, the highest capital in the world, at about 12,000 ft. It is much different than Cochabamba. There is a more of a big city feel to it, due to the sky scrapers and because there are people selling things on the street all the time, really early in the morning to late at night. I haven´t seen that as much in Cocha. The streets are also really really inclined. I went running one morning and had two choices straight up now, or straight up later. The city is built in kind of a bowl. The lower you go, the more wealthy the area is. As you move out from the center, you also move into lower class neighborhoods. There is a large disparity between the rich and the poor here, much due to the vast amount of international corporations there. La Paz is also much more touristy, there are tons of markets and shops that cater to the backpacking gringo. Our hotel was really nice and in this part of town.

In La Paz, we did a lot a lot a lot of things. We spoke to a famous movie director, went the World Bank in Bolivia, spoke to Mujeres Creando--a feminist organization, and Mamani Mamani, the most famous artist in Bolivia. All of it was incredible. The World Bank was very interesting. We asked the representative a lot of questions. He was very nice and very good with words, answering our questions without actually answering our questions about the implications of the organization. Mamani Mamani was fantastic as well. His work is known for its explosive colors and interpretations of Ayamara indigenous life. We went to his studio, bought a lot of souvenouirs and heard him talka about his work. A lot of us had him sign the things we bought and he did a portrait of every person. One afternoon I also explored a little bit with a few friends. We found the capital building, which was beautiful and mostly just walked around. We met a 3 or 4 about 80 or 90 year old men and some of them served in ww2 in Germany. We chatted with them for quite a while. The friendliness of Bolivians is everywhere.

One day we also went to El Alto, a growing city above La Paz. I was told both have about 1 million people. It is almost all indigenous Ayamara who have come to the city to work. Many who live in El Alto, work in La Paz for the rich mestizos (mixed) or blancos (white people) as maids, construction workers, etc., or on the streets selling merchandise. We visited the public university in El Alto to talk to some of its students. They were awesome. So full of passion for social change. There were murals all over their university and I could defnitely feel their energy. They were also extremely friendly and we talked mostly about politics and dancing. Being there, I felt like the future of Bolivia is in good hands, as long as these students continue their dedication to their cause. We also visited an organization called "Teatro del Trono" (Trono Theatre). Trono is a neighborhood in El Alto and the theater serves as place for neighborhood youth to create their own theater, dance, music, art, video, etc. productions. The organization is so full of life and even their building has spirit. There were about 5 or 6 floors, including the roof where you can see incredible views of the city and the mountains.

Both of these cities were incredibly fun and intersting. I would have liked to get to spend a little more time in each of them, to really get to know them better. I´ll try to post some picture slater. The next day we were off to Toquoli, the pueblo en el campo, but that is a whole other adventure...

Este y Ese

I realized in shame that I haven´t shared perhaps the funniest thing that has happened to me since I have been here. There is a small, really nice park near my house. I went there the other day to read and instead of reading, I pretended to read while really watching a 6-man pop-rock band record a music video. I wish I wish I had my camera. They had wardrobe changes and everything. There was a lot of just dancing in place in a few different locations. There were 2 singers, a guitar, a bass, and almost best of all the drummer played an electronic drum pad and best of all a keytar. Ridiculous.

I also wanted to note that I have gone to Tai Chi a few times since I´ve been here. One of my academic advisers runs the Tai Chi school of Cochabamba, its in the bottom of his house. This is not really a Bolivian thing at all. Its really like it but its muy tempraño, 6.15 am, so I have a hard time going frequently. you never know what you will find in Bolivia.

I feel like I have learned an immense amout about a lot of things in the past few weeks. It has been incredibly surreal. We have met so many influencial people through SIT and even the conversations with my family blow my mind sometimes. I´d also like to note, I am getting better at ´gim´our card game and I even won 2 Bolivianos this weekend.

On Sunday we leave for La Paz, which will be an incredible experience in itself, but then we go right into our rural village homestay. We are going to a small Aymara village of 24 families en Lago Titcaca for 5 days. They have never sent a group here before, so I´m sure it will be crazy. I have no idea what it will be like, which is one of the reasons I am so excited.

Salud.

Carnaval en Oruro

The weekend, yet again, unsurprisingly, proved to be, well, ridiculous (And I will try not to use so many commas...). Carnaval is the celebration before Lent, a big party with everything you want before a long time where you can´t have anything you want (well, not really, but that´s the idea). To get it out of your system, I suppose.

The drive was a little treacherous but more so gorgeous. These mountains are so different than ones I have seen before. We zig zagged for about 4 our 5 hours until we got to Oruro Friday night. Oruro thrives off of Carnval, they say the population triples on this weekend. All of Bolivia comes to share in the celebration, which is built around a 21-hour parade. Yes, 9 am to 6 am. Dance groups from EVERY city and pueblecito come in ornate and crazy costumes, in every color imaginable, with marching bands of middle aged men to match. A lot of the costumes represent a historical group of people in Bolivia, for instance the Morenos--the African slaves forced to work in the mines, or either a religious symbol, like los Diablos. Everything tells a story, whether it be about the past or present, Catholicism or traditional religion. It allows for stories from all different facets of Bolivia to come together to celebrate being an incredibly complicated and diverse country. Me encantan los osos. Qué lindo.

When there is a break in the parade, and their are many, the other STANDARD of Carnaval occurs: waterballon and foam fights. If you don´t want to get wet, you better cover yourself in plastic, but better yet, don´t show up. It´s not just teenagers trying to make trouble, its everyone from age 3 to 90. Not that everybody likes getting wet or foamy, but if you go to Carnaval, you either love it or put up with it. The street is lined with stands to watch the parade and waterballoons, ¨Globos¨come from every direction. Under the stands and side streets are full of Globo vendors, selling bags of balloons full of water, as well as aerosl cans of foam, like shaving cream, and of course water guns. After lunch, I decided there was enough parade left for me to watch and I spent the afternoon with a few of my fellow estudiantes having globo fights against whoever. We had two foamers and 3 or 4 globo-ers and were mostly a defensive crew but from time to time, we doused the gringo or european lingering idly. It felt good to be 7 again. The evening was spent sort of wandering around and eventually back at the parade. Oruro is crazy, too hard to describe by blog. It is safe to say, I don´t need to be wet again for awhile, but too bad because Cochabamba´s Carnaval is this weekend, and I have seen to many globo-ers already not to be hit on my way home.

PS. i wanted to post some pictures but i have been having trouble uploading pictures. will do as soon as i can.

Tunari y Fútbol

Greetings. I thought Í´d just do a little recap-action of the weekend, since it was a pretty good time. Friday my program went to a little town called Tarata, it is about 45 minutes from Cochabama. ¡Que lindo! It is a old town built during colonialism, which is obvious from the archicture. It is famous for many things: there is a tea factory, Frutti, which distributes throughout Bolivia and the world; a Chicha factory where they make, well, chicha, which is a alcholic drink native to Bolivia. Its kind of sweet, and kind of yeasty, its hard to describe and I have no idea how it´s made. Its kind of a love it or hate it thing. Many, many musicians also hail from Tarata. Walking around with a few other students, we met some of them. They were super nice and said there is music in the town square every day at noon, but the only thing we found in the square were teenagers with waterballoons...saying they were a pack of wolves is an understatment, but we escaped dry. We then went to lunch at an old hacienda. Haciendas are plots of land with huge houses that were built during the colonial periods by the Spanish. They came in, took the land from the people who lived there and then made those same people farm it for themselves...basically a sort of feudal system for a long time, and arguably still exists. It was a beautiful house and the land was gorgeous, however it was really strange to be in a space that kind of represents a lot of oppression and explotation, of land and people. The man who lives there now is about 80 and it was his grandfather´s hacienda. He was kind of crazy, but very kind and extended the invitation for us to stay there any time we want. I would really like to, there was a lot of land to explore and its good to get out of the city.

Friday night I went to a c´oa (I have no idea how to spell it) with my host mom. C´oas are held every first friday of the month. They are a traditional celebration with a lot of things i can´t reallye explain, but it´s supposed to bring good luck. The one I went to was through my mom´s political party, MAS (the party of the president, Evo Morales), in support of their candidate for Governor. It was me and a bunch of middle-aged people, pretty much, but it was interesting and fun to see people rallying together. Literally, together, because it was pouring and so we were all huddled under an awning.

Saturday, I went to Tunari National Park, which is in the mountains that surround Cochabamba. I did a small hike with a few friends, but it was way harder than I thought. Altitude is Real. We got some great views of the city. We had a guide book that said there was supposed to be lakes at the top, but we never found them.

Sunday I had a great almuerza (lunch) with the extended family. We went over to one of my aunt´s houses and had a great soup and tamales. We had planned on going to the big futbol game but tickets were hard to come by, so we watched it together after lunch. My mom said people started camping out on Wednesday night to by tickets on Saturday! It was the championship of the Aerosur Cup, Wilsterman (a Cochabamba team) vs. Bolivar (La Paz). My family is split and it a riot to watch the game with them. We brought out the TV from the back room and put it in the living room. It was a great game with lots of joy and suffering because it was so close. it ended in a shoot-out. I was nervous and I had nothing to be nervous about. There are more games this spring and hopefully I can make it to one. They are ridiculous. Then we went back to my family´s apartment, but to the one above us (another aunt) to play cards. Every sunday night they play ´gim´. i don´t really know how to spell it but i eventually learned how to play it. however, I got my butt kicked and I think I owe mi tía Marta 15 bolivianos, but I´m not sure.

Gringa in the Garden of Eternal Spring

Well, I´ve been in lovely Cochabamba for almost a week (to the hour). Its been a whirlwind of warm weather, spanish, and gringaness. Yes, gringa--white girl-- is what I am and will forever be. Although I have only had 2 waterballoons, ´globos,´thrown at me and they missed just short of my feet. Waterballoons are a pretty normal part of the culture, especially right before Carnival, a marti gras-ish festival thats a weekend of dancing and getting hit by water balloons.

I will try to give a general summary of the last week without writing a novel. We (SIT students) had orientation or 4 days where we had a crash course in living in Cochabamba. There are 17 students on the program. The second day we had a ´drop off´ where we drove to the top of a large hill where el Cristo is. el Cristo is the largest statue of Jesus in South America by 1 meter, I I think. You can see the whole cityi from there, it is awesome. The city is so beautiful, it is surrounded by gentle green mountains. I love it. Then we took a Gondola down and were given a destination to find with a partner. My partner and I found our way to La Univalle de Tiquipaya (University of Tiquipaya) and our way back to the hotel and only got sort of lost. Saturday our host families picked us up from our hotel and we moved in to our new casas.

A little bity about mi familia nueva: I live in an apartment on Ricardo Jaimes Friente Ave, with the Thames family: my mom Magda, my sister Natalia (22), my brother Sergio (27), and Lucas (4, our dog). Magda works at the Historical Archives of Cochabamba and is workign on planning cities celebration of 200 years in September. Natalia is on summer break right now but starts university in February, where she is studying to be a journalist. Sergio is a folk dance instructor for kids. Natalia is a folk dancer as well. Lucas is a good dog and I think we are going to be good friends. I am the 5th SIT student they have had, so they know the drill pretty well. They are a loving family who like to joke around alot. They are patient with me and my spanish, and always looking out for me. I have also met the other son, Jorge, and his wife Mata. They are expecting una bebe in April!

I started school on Monday. Sergio brought me by Taxi-Truffi. Almost everyone uses public transportation here. There are busses, truffis (prounounced true-fee), taxi-truffis, and taxis. truffis and taxi-truffis are ´fixed-route taxis´so basically like a bus but in a car or van. All of public transporation costs 1.5 bolivianos (7 bolivianos=1 dollar, you do the math.) I have class from 9-12.30, this is a lecture about Bolivia and right now we are talking about history. we have covered basically 1800-1936, from pre-colonialism to the spanish rule to wars of ´independence´and now we´re talking about different states of rule and transition periods. its all intersteing, and i understand about 70% of what our lecturer Rapheal Puente, says. Then I go home for lunch. Lunch, almuerza, is the biggest meal of the day. Everybody goes home for lunch. Breakfast and dinner are both small meals, like bread and coffee, or fruit. Then I have spanish class from 2.45-6.15. My spanish teacher, Chi Chi, is a little crazy but really helpful and energetic. I am on my own now getting to school. I am slowly figuring out the city and streets. But it is exhausting to think in spanish all day.

Thats pretty much it for the general go-around. I´ll try to be more specific about stuff in future blogs. I hope you are well. Oh yes, don´t hate me, but it has been about 80 degrees everyday.

Good Morning Class

The mystery of Bolivia to most Americans is not surprising as our geography skills generally wane after rote memorization of world capitals and countries in seventh grade. There is no shame in this though— I study geography now, but that does not mean I know every world capital or the name of every country (yet! ha). I have gotten a lot of good questions and here is the best I can do.

The conversation about where I am studying abroad normally breaks down after I say “Bolivia.” The responses I have typically gotten are as follows:

1.The regretfully blank stare (but not wanting to ask where it is) followed by “Wow! That’s great!” After about 10 minutes, they ask where it is.

2. The accurate general location, with ample amounts of hesitation. “Is that…in… South….America?”

3. The unabashed question. “Oh! Where is that?”

Of course, some, like my sister (and many others), have confused it with Belize for some time, while others, like my doctor, begin sharing bits of trivia about the inner workings of llamas and the monthly high/how water temperatures of Lake Titicaca for the past 10 years.

Conversations then have led to “Why are you going there?” (aren’t you an English major?) and then “What exactly will you be doing?” I have never been entirely sure of the answer to the “why” question, but I think it has something to do with the “what” question.” The program I am going though is called School of International Training (SIT). They have programs all around the world and emphasize “experiential learning.” Basically we have class when we are in our home stay city (Cochabamba for me), and every other week we take sort of like large field trips to other cities and locations. Then the last four weeks are an independent study where everyone does their own thing and presents it at the end. I knew I wanted to go somewhere in South America. I have only heard good things from many friends who have traveled there. It is a region I have been drawn to for a long time and I wanted to be able to be immersed in a Spanish-speaking country.

Bolivia was a place I didn’t know much about before I started looking at programs. Not knowing much or many people who had been there appealed to me. It was a mystery and so I didn’t have many expectations about what it would be like. Now, I still don’t know much, but I know a little, enough to know a few basics: It is one of few countries in the world where the majority of its population is indigenous (mostly rural farmers) who have fought/still fight to maintain their indigenous languages (so they don’t speak Spanish) and traditions. It is one of the poorest nations in South America; and one of two landlocked countries in South America. It has mountains (The Andres), jungles (the Amazon), highlands, lowlands, and plains. The current president is Evo Morales, their first indigenous president ever and was recently reelected to another term. Bolivia has two capital cities: the administrative capital is La Paz (the highest capital city in the world, at around 12,000 feet) and the constitutional capital is Sucre. My home away from home will be Cochabamba (also known as the “Land of Eternal Spring” for its nice weather. It is about 8,000 feet above sea level). I will be two hours ahead of Central Time.

That’s all. I expect five pages looking further into any of these topics on my desk by Monday.

Waiting

Well folks, here is a little blog, promised to a few family and friends. Instead of dropping completely off the face of the Earth, I will only drop off the face of the northern hemisphere.

These days, I am just waiting for January 26. My daily routine this past month has been leisurely bordering on lazy. Every day I read a little, play guitar a little, work on a puzzle a little, watch a little too much TV, drag my dogs away from a dead raccoon down the road, play Banagrams solitaire, exercise more or less, drink lots of tea and hot chocolate, and when I’m feeling ambitious I maybe put one thing away in my room (and if that means moving it from the floor to the chair, that's "put away" enough for me). The other day my dad asked me if I was bored yet. This is the sort of day he likes to call “busy doing nothing.” And the truth is, no, I am not bored. Not one bit because while I am I am busy doing nothing, my mind is quite distracted by leaving. I am, as to be expected, so anxious.

I guess that's where my blog title comes from (because I know you'll want it explained). Going to a new place, be it for a couple of days or a few months, is exciting! And terrifying! So much so that I can feel it in my bones and right now, I am definitely feeling the anticipation of going to Bolivia. I've been bitten by the travel bug and I can feel it in my bones, from my head to my toes. I have travel bones.

All of this nothing has included very little preparing for studying in Bolivia. I could be doing more of the recommended reading, I could be brushing up on my Spanish, I could be beginning to pack, but I’m not. Truthfully, all of the nothing is only to distract me from thinking about leaving. I am excited but equally terrified. What am I getting myself into? I am excited for mid-February. Until then, I will smile politely and I trudge my way through conversations utilizing lots of hand signals to supplement my meager vocabulary and probably only speaking in present tense until I can conjugate verbs without thinking about whether its -ir or -er or irregular...What am I getting myself into?